[ The problem, solidified at Wei Ying's door, reduces itself — lets the weight of the way burden his shoulders down, nudging him to melt and sit by the door, back to hard wood, legs crossing.
Meditation strikes him as a perversion — to take it now, uncleansed, might violate the spirit of the exercise. Still, better to temper himself, each breath decelerating, until he feels the flow of the world coursing through his lungs.
Then, softer: ]
Take your time.
[ Sixteen years on, he has perfected nothing if not waiting. ]
no subject
Meditation strikes him as a perversion — to take it now, uncleansed, might violate the spirit of the exercise. Still, better to temper himself, each breath decelerating, until he feels the flow of the world coursing through his lungs.
Then, softer: ]
Take your time.
[ Sixteen years on, he has perfected nothing if not waiting. ]